The Elephant is Really a Mouse
by idea-of-sarcasm
Summary: FredHermione. It's just a matter of forgetting the past


**Title: **The Elephant Is Really a Mouse  
**Author: **ideaofsarcasm  
**Disclaimer: **Shocker isn't it that I am not JK Rowling, nor do I own anything Harry Potter related?  
**Pairing: **Fred/Hermione  
**Rating: **R  
**Summary: **It's just a matter of forgetting the past.  
**A/n: **Yes, it's a bit of an odd title

**_The ''elephant in the room''s are those issues that people don't want to acknowledge, or truly confront, even if they are blindingly obvious_**

* * *

_This was wrong. _

That was the only thought that kept running through her mind as she sat on the couch ( _his _couch), waiting for him to pour them some wine in the kitchen. There was no doubt in her mind where this night was going. Fred Weasely had bought wine, real wine, not the cheap substitute she usually kept in her flat. She wasn't going to pretend she was knowledgeable about his usual seduction patterns, but tonight she knew he was going all out.

It wasn't like this was a surprise. Sex was an inevitability in any relationship. When two people had been together a certain amount of time (and in her case, a long period of time), there were certain things that were expected. She'd weighed that fact the first night that he had kissed her. It had been the night of the housewarming party at the flat Ron and Harry had moved into while they were in auror training. One minute they had been discussing her new job, the next she was up against a wall in the hallway with his mouth feasting on her neck. The multiple hickies she had woken up with the next morning had been a good indicator of where they'd end up. But at that point it had been an abstract thought rather than reality.

So here she was tonight, having worn her favourite dress that she was fully aware showed of her slight cleavage to best advantage, on the verge of bolting. It wasn't the shy virgin routine, she'd done this before. In fact that was the very problem. She _had _done this before.

Here.

With Ron.

For Fred and George with all their mocking of 'ickle Ronniekins', had been willing to help out their horny, still-living-at-home, little brother when he had wanted to be with his girlfriend for the very first time. Of course as she had found out later, he had practically promised them his first born in order to get them to agree, but they had given him the keys and vacated the place for the night. And consequently she had lost her viginity to Ron Weasley in one of his brother's beds.

As she glanced past the adjacent door into what she now knew to be Fred's bedroom, she supposed she should at least be grateful the sheets were different.

Oh God, they should have gone back to her flat, her roommate be damned. At least at her new place there were no awkward memories of sex with _his brother_. Or, she should have offered to spring for a motel room for the night. Anything would be better than this. It shouldn't be this awkward. She and Ron hadn't lasted long, and parted on amicable terms. He and the Weasley's were all aware she was seeing Fred, and despite a few moments of 'weirdness' when they were all together, it had never been an issue. She was completely over him and, despite the fact he had been her first boyfriend, there hadn't been that much to get over.

Until tonight. When all she could remember was necking with Ron on the couch, having sex with Ron in Fred's bedroom….not exactly an aphrodisiac when you were about to sleep with the man's brother. For the first time she wished she and Ron had just sucked it up and snuck around one afternoon at the Burrow when Arthur and Molly weren't at home. They wouldn't have had as much time as they had while they were here, but it had been Ron's first time that night as well as hers; he hadn't needed that long.

She knew she was biting her nails in a way she hadn't done since school when Fred walked back into the room, and she didn't even notice his return. "Everything okay love?" she jumped at the sound of his concerned voice even as he sat beside her.

"Just fine," she forced a smile, taking the glass of wine he offered. Funnily enough they had never really discussed Ron, never made him an issue between them. Tonight didn't seem the night to start.

He was watching her with an intent look on his face as she gulped the wine down in one shot, hoping to calm herself. She didn't resist when he took the glass from her and set it gently on the coffee table, taking her hand in his. "Hermione," he said firmly, letting his other hand tangle gently in her hair. "You know this doesn't have to happen tonight. I just…I thought…you wanted…."

And her heart broke a little at that. "It's not that," she told him softly, "You know that." She had been pretty explicit in the past few weeks with what she wanted. The hand job she had given him in his office at the store should have been the first clue. This was not how she had pictured their first night together going. It was supposed to be fast and furious, relieving the pent up tension of waiting.

Even though she had never said the words to him, she loved him. She had been attracted to him since she was 15, but it wasn't the same. What she had found in him was what she had been missing with Ron. She had loved Ron, she had enjoyed the sex, but it wasn't enough. He hadn't been enough. Since the first night he kissed her there had been nobody for her but Fred.

"It's Ron," she finally decided on honesty, and watched his mouth fall open. Whatever he had expected her to say, that wasn't it.

"Sorry?" was all he managed to choke out, and she swore he backed a full foot away from her on the couch. "Merlin, Hermione, you're not still in love with that prat, are you?"

She hoped the horror on her face was apparent. Trust her to make this the most uncomfortable night of their lives. "Of course not….Fred, I'm not handling this right. Let's get one thing clear up front, I want you – I want you to fuck me in as many ways as we can think of." Once she felt she had the blush enough under control, she continued. "It's just….do you want to go to a motel?"

He looked at her like she had sprouted two heads. "We're all alone Hermione," he sought to reassure her, not sure what was going on, "George is spending the night at his girlfriends. And I assure you, my bedroom is clean and hygienic."

She so did not want to talk about this, "Listen Fred, remember that time a few Christmas's ago when Ron borrowed your flat for the night….?"

Fred was a more perceptive guy than she had given him credit for when they were younger. "Oh," was his short response as he blushed a little. This was the same man who had teased them mercilessly the next day, threatening to spill the beans to Mrs.Weasley almost every waking moment.

"I don't expect you to move," Hermione didn't know what to say, "It just, this is the first time that…you..me….we… and this is the place where Ron and I…you know." She was twenty-four, she had an extensive and dirty vocabulary, but at the moment she was stuttering like a teenager.

What she wasn't expecting to see was the feral look that passed over Fred's face as he smirked. "So, let me get this straight? Your problem is that you can't seem to get the memories of you and Ron doing the deed here out of your mind?"

"Essentially," she agreed, in what he liked to term her 'prissy' voice.

"Well Hermione," she knew that smile, she had seen in on him as he had fondled her a little under the table during supper at his parents house. "As you know I am excellent at getting you to forget." It was something he did often just as a challenge, trying to make her stop working or finishing chores just because he could.

He continued on, and she could feel his hand sliding on top of her leg as she shivered a little. "Let's see, what would you remember about that night? I know it was ickle Ronniekins first time, and I'm guessing it was yours, so let me guess….missionary under the covers in the bedroom?"

"We are so not having this conversation," she knew her voice came out in an embarrassingly loud squeal, both because of the subject matter and the fact his hand had slid under the skirt of her dress and up her thigh.

"No," Fred agreed, teasing her as he slid his hand back out, "We're not. Just trying to assess what I have to work with here. I'll accept that for tonight the bed is off limits, not until you have nothing in your mind but me and the way I'm making you feel. But remember Hermione, we don't need the bedroom."

She remembered her and Ron's failed attempt at shower sex, and wanted to disagree, but she kept silent as he leaned over and pushed her hair from her shoulders and placed his lips right at the pulse on her neck in the way he knew she liked. She couldn't stop the shudder that ran through her body, and didn't really want to.

"We could always try George's room," he pointed out reasonably as he slipped her neckline to the side and nibbled a little.

"But then it would just be awkward when I took up with him next," Hermione couldn't keep the smile from her voice, and then struggled in vain as his hand snaked up to tickle her side.

"Very funny," his voice was dry. "I'm laughing on the inside."

He was about to lean over and kiss her again, but she held his face in her hands for a minute, hearing the slightly hurt tone in his voice. They liked to tease each other, but sometimes she forgot to ease off on the jokes about his brother. There had been one too many girls who had simply thought that one twin was as good as the other, rather than seeing them as individuals. "I love i _you_ /i , you prat," she told him affectionately, placing emphasis on the 'you' before kissing him herself.

"Good to know," he smiled. "It might make doing this seem a little tawdry if you didn't." She knew he realized it was the first time she had said the words to him, but he wasn't one for the dramatic.

She loved how it was between them, the laughter and the fun. With Fred, she learned not to take herself too seriously. That didn't mean that there wasn't the same depth of feeling between them, it just meant that they were more than only angst and passion. They were _fun_. She had never felt the same amount of freedom to just 'be' with any of her other boyfriends.

But for all his joking ways, that wasn't the sum of who Fred was, and when his eyes turned serious for a moment, keeping her hands in his as the only sole contact, and replied rather solemnly, "I love you too, you know," she realized she loved that he could exist as a walking contradiction.

"Good to know," she repeated his own words back at him, smiling broadly.

He cleared his throat, and she could tell he was a little embarrassed by the display of emotion. "So, we going to get it on or what?"

She burst out laughing at his voice of wording and nodded her head, "I did think that was where we were headed."

"Let me get us back on track then," he wiggled his eyebrows in a fashion she could never quite manage, even when she tried her hardest. And then kissed her again in a way that was anything but funny.

Later she would be grateful that when she ran her hands through the red hair that was remarkably like Ron's, she never noticed the similarity. Because it was only the two of them in there in that moment. When she slid his shirt from his shoulders, the sight of freckles didn't even remind her of anyone else because the pattern strewn across his body was all his own, more individual than a simple fingerprint; they were an extensive map across his body that she caressed with her lips, loving the way he moaned and dug his fingers into her hip.

When he struggled with the clasp on her bra, as he always did, it didn't remind her of anyone else (even though Ron had required a spell to get the thing undone) because she was staring into his eyes at that moment, and loved the look of awe that she saw there. Her body was nothing special, it certainly wasn't going to get her on the cover of any magazines, but Fred managed to make her feel beautiful every time he looked at her. Every time he caressed her breasts she felt like she was more than flat as a board, every time he trailed his hand up her thigh she forgot to be self-conscious. And all this he managed to do without saying a single word.

And when she moved overtop of him, and took him into her, there was no way she was thinking of anyone else because she was completely incapable of thought at that point. If she had been coherent, she would have focused on the concept of how right it all felt, how nobody filled her like he did. But she wasn't conscious of anything at that point except the most basic sensations, like the friction between their bodies and the material of the couch that she squeezed in her one hand as she came.

They stayed there on the couch afterwards, him still inside her, their heavy breaths mingling as their lips joined rather languidly, the urgency having been spent.

"I hope trying my bedroom next won't be an issue," his voice hitched, from what she hoped was just exhaustion. "The bed's a little more spacious than this couch."

"Trust me Fred," she replied as she weakly nipped at his shoulder, and then continued without thinking, "We could do it at Ron and Harry's apartment and it wouldn't be an issue."

She glanced up at him, hoping she hadn't spoken too hastily. It wasn't exactly best to bring up your ex-boyfriend in the post-coital moment, even if she had been trying to illustrate exactly how perfect it had been between her and Fred.

But this was Fred Weasely, who was above the petty jealousness, and was fully capable of finding the humour in any situation. "Really?' he raised his eyebrows thoughtfully, and replied in a serious tone, "Maybe for you. See, it might remind me of that time Harry and I……"

He broke off, laughing, when she punched him in the arm.


End file.
